


Devil's Don't Fly

by MyAngelInATARDIS



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, M/M, broken Cas, kinda sad, might have a sad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyAngelInATARDIS/pseuds/MyAngelInATARDIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after S9, S10 spoilers. Dean finds out Cas is dying, regrettable decisions ensue...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devil's don't fly, So don't expect me not to fall

Devil’s don’t fly. So don’t expect me not to fall. 

Dean Winchester ordered a drink at a bar. He’d been in this town for two weeks now. Five months ago, if he had been told that he would become a demon, he would have laughed. He hunted things that go bump in the night- now he’d become the monster. Dean knows that Sam is trying to hunt him down, even now, but Dean doesn’t care. He’ll kill Sam, too. Most of his abilities he’d figured out, and he still had the Mark and first blade. The jawbone went wherever he went.  
Crowley, try as he may, had not successfully recruited him. Dean’s been on his own path, killing dozens of low-life douchebags he found in bars. Traveling across the country doing as he damn well pleases, Dean had yet to run into Castiel.  
Dean, as a demon, should be relieved he’d yet to see the angel, but the last time he’d seen the guy, he’d been in pretty bad shape. Grace was running out, Dean wondered if the winged monkey had died yet. Dean was pulled from his thoughts as he noticed a button up wearing man walk into the den of iniquity. Oblivious to the demon watching him, the guy sat down and ordered three whiskeys. After two shots the guy surveyed his surroundings, peering through sad eyes at the mere four people in the bar.  
Dean scanned the man’s persona, and seemingly found something worth a try because he got up and crossed the bar to sit next to him. As a Knight of Hell, Dean could make deals that a crossroads demon could, and he had enough sense in him to recognize when a person was trying to drown something with alcohol; hell he’d done it himself. Dean settled himself into his new spot when the guy he was focused on looked up from his fifth shot. “You looking for something?’ the guy asked. “Just wondering why a sharp dressed guy like you is doing in a place like this.” Dean replied, gesturing to the man’s clothing. The man looked down at his clothes, then looked around the room again. “Yeah, alright, my wife cheated on me. What’s your excuse?” he replied, defensiveness not seeping into his voice. Dean smirked. “You got me. I’m actually here because I thought you looked like you could never get worse, and I’m here to help.” The guy sat up straighter and turned to look at him more. “Oh, yeah? And how’s that?” Dean ran his fingers across the edge of his glass and looked down, smiling darkly. “Well, how about we start with a name?”  
***  
After closing the deal with ‘Paul’, Dean decided to go back to the bar and pull some moves with the bartender, to have something to do. He glanced at the flickering streetlight before placing his hand on the doorknob. A startling pulling sensation snapped him backwards. He jerked around, trying to find the source. He felt it again and realized it was in his mind, pulling, yanking, him to a completely different place. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at his brother.  
***  
Sam Winchester was, by far, the last thing Dean had been expecting, and suddenly a devil’s trap was the only thing separating them. Dean glanced down, growing angrier by the second. Sam looked nervous and disgruntled, but still was the first to speak. “Hey, Dean. We need to talk.” Dean growled and flashed his eyes to black, earning two steps back from Sam and a choked gasp. “You know what I am, why so surprised?!” Dean barked out menacingly. Sam stood his ground, his shoulders squared in a way Dean recognized as hunting mode. Sam was swift and precise as he slung holy water on his brother’s face and quickly cuffed him with the demonic handcuffs, backing out of the circle as calculated as he came. Dean was on his knees when the effect of the holy water wore off and he realized what happened. Sam took a slight step back when he saw the enraged look in his brother’s eyes. Dean spat holy water at his brother. “Okay… then answer me this, Sam,” the demon said, all traces of humor gone. “How’d you get me here?” Sam glanced away, not really knowing what to say. “You’re a demon now. That means you can be summoned.” Sam explained, grabbing his cell phone and reaching for the cellar door. Once he was out of earshot of his brother, he dialed Castiel. Three rings was all it took when- “Sam?” Came Cas’s rough voice over the line, filled with concern. “Hey, Cas. I’ve got him.” Said the younger Winchester. A sigh of relief escaped Cas. “Okay, I will be there shortly. And Sam,” he paused, “don’t let him out, under any circumstances.”


	2. Devil's don't fly, but God we almost had it all

Sam had gone to the bunker’s library after he tied Dean to a chair, still cuffed. He picked up an exorcism book and tried to focus on the information that he had memorized already. Holy water, salt, Ruby’s knife, human blood- you ever think that maybe I was just tired of cleaning up after you? Dean’s words rung through his head. You ever think that maybe you were the problem? If not for you, the apocalypse would never have started. If not for you, Mom would still be alive. Sam closed his eyes as he felt a familiar burning at his eyes. Stop, Dean. This isn’t you. I’m gonna cure you. Sam had said. What if I don’t want to be cured? Personally, I like the disease. Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by the bunker door swinging open. A very tired looking Cas entered the library a few moments afterward. “Where is he?” Were the only words the angel said. Sam didn’t feel like seeing the monster of his brother just yet, so he told Castiel to go on down to the dungeon without him. Surprisingly, Cas just nodded and started off, his trenchcoat billowing behind him.   
From the dungeon Dean heard footsteps. Not Sam’s, these were a bit lighter and staggered more. He didn’t have much more time to contemplate before the lights flicked on to reveal the silhouette of a very familiar figure. Dean smirked and lifted his head. “Cas, for a second there I thought you’d forgotten about me.” He teased darkly. The angel took in the sight of the twisted and corrupted creature that was Dean. “I’m sorry this happened, Dean.” Cas said in a voice filled with solemn and guilt. “Don’t be sorry, angel! It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Castiel felt a ping of sorrow as he looked upon the Righteous man, the one whom he’d traveled to the very deepest pits of Hell to retrieve, the one who had taught him the meaning of doubt and shown him the feeling of having free will. He looked upon the one who he rebelled against his home, and everything he had been taught for, and he saw the foul creature staring back, saw how twisted and black his soul had become, so very different from the one whom he had called family- the one who he loved, and felt guilt, and helplessness, and fear, and anger, and all other emotions he felt as he fell from grace. But then he looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the oddest thing; concern.   
Dean was looking at the angel, who looked like he had been hit by a bus, and found the angel staring back, but with dread and fear in his eyes. Cas sank to his knees and closed his eyes slowly, then opened them. Dean looked at him with what he could only hope was vague interest, but what was truly a human emotion seeping through the cracks. They both saw it flash in his eyes, if only for a couple of seconds. Deans face became rage and utter disgust at himself, while Castiel’s face melted into a small, microscopic, glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe it wasn’t too late for Dean. “What do you want, angel?” his voice dripped with forced malice. Cas stood up. “I want you back, Dean.” Castiel answered smoothly after a moment of thought. With that, Cas turned to leave. “Wait,” Dean’s husky voice called. “You’re dying. How long do you have?” Castiel was very surprised that Dean had asked him, even showed emotion in his voice, but that was quickly diminished when he felt an ulterior motive. “I’m not sure, why?” Castiel asked in his best innocent impression. “Because, I can help you get your grace back.” Dean confessed. Castiel narrowed his eyes, his innocent charade forgotten. “You wanna make a deal? With me?” He asked. Dean winced at the tone this conversation was taking. “I can give you enough time to fix Heaven, then your mortal soul will be taken. Ten years, best offer.” Dean managed to get out. Castiel looked Dean full-on, and suddenly he looked like the being that smited anything that dared to stand in his way. He glared Dean down and spoke with an icy tongue. “I’m an angel, you ass.” and he left the demon to stew. 

***  
Sam was passed out asleep in the library, hunched over books. But even sleep could not erase his brother’s voice. I’m tired of you. He jerked awake to Castiel opening the library doors, looking… Unpleasant to say the least. “How is he?” Sam asked. Cas sat down in the chair across from him. “He tried to make me a deal.” Cas replied in monotone. Sam furrowed his brow. “Well, I think we should get started with the injections, then.”


	3. Devil's don't fly, but I try

Dean was tied to a chair, in a devil’s trap when they started the injections. After the first injection though, Dean was starting to be in apparent pain. That didn’t keep him from being snarky. “You don’t even know if this will work. What if it’s killing me?” he sneered. Cas just shut the doors and left him be. The pain didn’t subside and Sam was starting to get worried. ‘What if it is killing him?’ he thought.   
It was around the fifth injection when he broke lose. His arm was throbbing with pain, but the Mark’s need for blood was stronger than anything. So, he broke out. Because he was becoming human and could walk through a devil’s trap.   
The first sign that something was wrong was when the bunker locked down. Sam and Cas were immediately flailing to find him. But Dean was still a demon. In fact he had just enough left in him to kill them both. So it was a chase. Sam said splitting up was the best, so Sam took the bedrooms and Cas took the kitchen and storage. Dean just happened to be in a storage archive of the Men of Letters, when he hears footsteps. Soft, cautious, footsteps. Looking for an intruder. But they were also damaged footsteps, of a damaged person. Cas. He was walking quietly along an isle when something hard and metal came down onto his head. He fell backwards, but only for a moment before he took a swipe a Dean’s knees, knocking him off balance. The fight continues, each side evenly tied until Cas take a rather hard hit to the head with a copper pipe and falls to the ground, lifting his arms to shield his face briefly. But to no avail, because Dean aims for his stomach and lands a solid kick. Then a blow to his face. Then again. Dean beat Cas mercilessly until Cas grasped Dean’s arm and said to him, “Dean, it’s okay. It’s okay-” another blow to the face. “Dean y-you don’t h-have to d-do this. T-this isn’t y-you.” Kick. “We’re family.” Dean paused. “We need y-you.” Dean let go of Cas, reeling back like he was bitten by a snake as he began to feel emotions again. Don’t ever change. Cas grabbed Dean’s arm to see if he was ok. Blood splattered to floor as Dean’s fist collided with Cas’s jaw harder than ever. Cas crawled up off the floor to his knees, at the mercy of Dean’s arms again. “I-I need you, Dean.” The last thing Dean remembers is the pain that skewers his face as he’s dowsed in holy water, then he passed out.

***  
The first thing Dean saw when he woke up was his brother’s relieved face, his hazel eyes filled with hurt and worry. The second thing Dean saw was a needle being shoved in his arm. Everything was too bright for his eyes, but he could tell they were back in the dungeon. The needle pinched a little, but he didn’t mind. Cas stepped into his vision, bruises littering his face and blood covering him from head to toe. That reminded him of something he’d said a while ago, you’re covered in blood till you’re covered in your own blood. Guess that’s true. Sam removed the needle and placed it on the table a few steps back, worry and fear clouding his eyes once again. “Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. Dean opened his eyes completely, feeling the back return to them. He shook his head one last time as he felt the demonic essence leave his body for good, and felt his humanity spark inside him. He looked at his brother and best friends in the eyes, and grinned cheekily. “Heya, fellas… You look worried.” he stated nervously. They both let out the breath they’d been holding.  
***  
He gripped the metal tightly and slid it along the soft flesh of the man’s neck, blood spurting out where it went… He felt the blood ooze from the person in front of him, another trying to unlock the door he’d locked, and swiftly jammed the blade in his stomach repeatedly…. He looked around himself, and counted ten bodies-all dead. He looked down at himself and saw caked blood, dried blood, and new blood soaking his clothes and skin. He felt the exhilaration of the battle leave him as he realized that he’d just murdered ten innocent people, and instead felt the dead drop of dread and sorrow fill him.  
Dean woke up shaking and covered in sweat, breathing heavily. He rolled his sleeve up and traced his finger on the now glowing Mark of Cain. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and sent off two texts;  
Cas: I need you, too.  
Sam: We got work to do.


End file.
